


Bitty Secretly Knows Everything About Football

by Airplanesandcookies (Mosgirllee)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty's Fanclub, Coach's son, Fluff, Gen, I really don't know much about football, M/M, Not detailed at all, Series of ficlets, Slow Burn, athletic!bitty, ballet!bitty, but maybe I sound like I do?, fun little shorts, jumps around in timeline, may change as we go farther in future, minor original characters lurking in the background, most are canon compliant, no set posting schedule, ongoing fic, overdose mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosgirllee/pseuds/Airplanesandcookies
Summary: Remember that tweet from Bitty's Sophomore year where he admitted that he secretly knows everything about football?  Truth is, it's not so secret.





	1. Look Out

**Author's Note:**

> I started this series on my tumblr page and I thought that I should collect them all together here. I have at least three more ficlets planned out, but there will probably be many more.
> 
> Check, Please and characters belongs to Ngozi. She’s amazing.

Holster did not see the ball at all. 

Instead, on the way back from Annie’s, Bitty was indulging him a rant about how utterly unfair it was for Ransom to manage a 4.0 when his studying strategy consisted of locking himself in the attic and rocking back and forth while moaning.

In his defense, projectiles usually come at him from the ice up.  Or as other giant players slamming into him.  So, when he hear’s “head’s up”, he’s completely unprepared to look up straight up at the football sailing towards his head.

Thank god for Bitty.   
   
Bitty, who drops his coffee and manages to catch the fucking thing two inches from Holster’s face.  

“Dude!”  Two football players come running from down the street, Holster doesn’t recognize them, but Bitty who is holding onto the ball with both hands, calls out, “Hey Dean! Go long!” And manages to launch the most perfectly thrown spiral Holster has ever seen up close towards the two players.

The guy who must be Dean who was chuckling at first, looks up and starts to back up, then starts to in ernest run, while checking over his shoulder for the ball, and manages to run smack into a set of trash cans on the corner of the street.  

“And that is why our offense sucks, our wide receiver has no perception of who’s on the field. He can’t even dodge a trash can.” Bitty mutters as he brushes drops of coffee off of his coat.   
   
“You know them?  Wait…more important.  You did that on purpose?” Holster asks, still stunned about the whole thing.

Bitty frowns down at the stain on his coat.  “I really wanted that coffee and now I need to get this dry-cleaned.”   
   
“Bitty, you saved my life.” 

“I really didn’t.”

“You totally did.  I saw my life flash before my eyes, Eric.”

Bitty rolled his eyes.  “Adam, you run into other giant guys with blades strapped to your feet.  I doubt a football would have taken you out.”

“I MUST TELL THE WORLD OF YOUR DEEDS!” Holster yelled.

“I really wish you wouldn’t.”  

“I MUST TELL RANSOM OF YOUR DEEDS!” Holster yelled louder.

“I’ll allow it.”

“And buy you another coffee, because that was s’wawsome!”

That got Eric to smile.  “Done.”


	2. Football Toss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty has great aim.

The Samwell Quidditch team needed money.  After making it into the second round of the US Quidditch Playoffs their first year, the school knew that it needed to at least help provide some funding for uniforms and transportation costs and the other sport teams were more than happy to help.

  
The first week of September was commemorated with pumpkin spice lattes and some of the most creative carnival games run by each team in order to help raise funds. 

The women’s volleyball team set up a large kiddy pool of water where people could “catch the golden snitch” with a fishing pole for $1 per three tries.  

The football team was in the booth next to them and had hung up five rings for a football toss.  The prize was a very large and very ugly gray stuffed shark.

And Caitlin wanted that shark with a passion.  Chowder would flip when he saw it, and it would be a perfect in his room. 

Yet, 15 dollars down, she was no further in making progress towards the shark. She blew her hair back from her face and wondered how much it would cost to just buy the damn thing when she saw Eric walk by and quietly check out the booth before walking up to her.

“Hey Eric.” she said as she put down another three dollars for her five throws.

“Hey Caitlin.” And he watched as she quite frankly made a spectacle of herself launching the balls at the target.

She put her head in her hands, “I have no idea what I’m doing.  This isn’t my thing.”

Eric patted her on the shoulder.  “Chowder would love that ugly thing, wouldn’t he.”

Caitlin nodded, “He would cuddle it on that ugly green couch before games.”

“That’s not a selling point for me.” Eric said, eyebrows raised.

“He would name it Puck Shields”

“That’s a much better selling point.”

Caitlin was almost out of money, and was no closer to sending the three balls through the center ring. 

Eric chewed his lip for a moment before mumbling, “Alright, but you need to let me know if you see anyone from the hockey team.”

Confused, Caitlin nodded.

Eric took one of the footballs on the bench in from of him and took 4 giant steps back from the game’s line.  She watched as he squared his shoulders perpendicular to the booth and raised the ball to his ear and launched it towards the goal.  It sailed effortlessly through the middle hoop.

Caitlin jumped up and down in her excitement as he did it twice more.

Even the football player manning the booth looked stunned as he handed over the stuffed shark.

“Eric! That as amazing!”

“My dad’s a football coach.” Eric said, shrugging his shoulders as if it was nothing.

“I can’t wait to tell Chowder.  He’s going to love this!”

“Don’t mention it.”  Eric looked at the ground momentarily before looking back up.

“He’s going to flip when I tell him you won him Puck Shields.”

“Seriously, don’t mention it.  Don’t tell him I had anything to do with it.” 

And that was weird.  “Bitty, why would I not tell him?” Caitlin asked, perplexed. 

“I just don’t like getting attention for this sort of thing.  Can you just tell him that you won it?  You paid for it anyway.  More romantic that way.”  
And that was weird, but whatever.  Caitlin was too excited to refuse his request and Eric looked so relieved that she easily agreed. 

“Okay, but at least take a few free turns trying to catch the Golden snitch.”

Eric smiled, “Cool, what do I win?”

Caitlin went back to her booth and reached behind it and pulled out a gift certificate to Annie’s. “This and chirping material since Holster and Ransom never managed to catch the snitch.”

Eric nodded.  “Done!”


	3. Fantasy Football

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Bitty helps Shitty out with his Fantasy Football team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are written randomly, so we jump around the timeline. 
> 
> This story takes place, Sophomore year, around late January.

The ritual of washing dishes was almost as calming as baking for Bitty.  He was cleaning up after a frankly delicious disaster of a brownie recipe when Shitty walked into the kitchen and slapped down a small  stack of cash.

“You beautiful motherfucker, you.”

Bitty eyed the cash, “Shitty, whatever you are proposing, I think I’m going to have to say no.”

Shitty laughed as he walked straight up to Bitty and pulled him into a huge bear hug completely ignoring Bitty’s wet hands.

“Oh, you subversive wonderful motherfucker.  I could kiss you.  But that would be without your consent, so instead please accept the winnings from the Knight Fantasy Football League.”

“Oh, that.” Bitty said, extracting himself from the hug.  He wiped his hands on a dishrag hanging from one of the cabinets.  

“Yes, oh that!  Do you know what you did?”  Shitty was getting louder and flailing his arms in a wide circle.   

“Nothing - you told me to pick you a team.  And I did that.” And maybe managed the weekly rosters, just to see how the fantasy team was doing, as you do.

“So modest.  No, Bitty.  Let me tell you a story.” Shitty was shirtless, but he still rubbed his hands down his chest as if he were pulling down a vest before hopping up on the kitchen table.  

“You see Bitty, my dad’s family love football.  They live and breathe the Patriots.  They sometimes flirt with the New York Giants and the Jets, but that’s not the point.  If you told my shitty uncles, Uncle Pompous and Uncle Pretentious that their fuck up of a nephew would 1) forget about the draft, 2) call up his Hausmate and beg him to pick a team and 3) still somehow magically savant his way to wiping the floor with them and their professionally consulted and curated fantasy rosters, they would have laughed in your face and said and I quote, “If you do it, We’ll give you $500 dollars, each,” Shitty imitated with a very smaug sounding affect.  

“And what did you do, my glorious friend?  You created a roster of practically unknown and unpopular players and crushed it.  Are you psychic?  You can tell me.”

Bitty flushed uncomfortably, “Seriously, it was just some lucky guesses. I mean, I practically just let the computer pick your team.”

“Bro,” Shitty shook his head.  “Let’s start with one: for real?  Because that makes it even better if they were knocked down by a random computer program.  But two: you came through and did me a solid favor at the last minute that I get to rub in my uncles’ faces.  I owe you.  Please take this money as a symbol of my gratitude.”

Bitty eyed the money suspiciously.  “Why don’t you donate it to concussion research in your uncles’ name.”

Shitty’s eyes got huge and his mouth dropped open with a, “Bro…that’s amazing.” He hopped off the table and sprinted out of the room calling back over his shoulder, “I’m still buying you so much butter and chocolate, you just don’t know.”

Bitty shook his head and turned back to his dishes with a small smile on his face and a mental note that better chocolate would perhaps help that brownie recipe. 


	4. Halloween advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where the football team has noticed that Bitty is good at football and cute.

Bitty knew that he could talk. Goodness, given a polite smile, a half beat of silence, or any interest at all, and Bitty could talk someone’s ear clear off. Both ears if he was talking about baking or music.

Add in a few beers or a cup of tub juice, then it really couldn’t be helped. His poor son-of-a-football-coach soul just overflowed with stats, plays, and scores.

But even Bitty was surprised to notice that he had attracted a small crowd of football players around him during the Halloween Kegster.

“That was an amazing game against Dartmouth. They were tougher than they’ve been and they definitely recruited to fill in their gaps from the last few seasons. It was like watching a track and field event, that team can run.”

Jay Dean, one of the the Samwell running backs, nodded, “Yeah, I was barely able to keep up.”

Bitty patted Jay’s arm and nodded, his bunny ears flopping over one eye before he pushed them back, tub juice sloshing. “You will need it, you are playing Rhode Island University next week, and that coach, what’s his name, Stubbs? Stubbs is going to play quick and dirty. He’s going to keep the plays low. You will have to watch for passes and sprints near the sideline.”

Four sets of eyes just blinked at him so Bitty continued.

“Your coaches didn’t notice? Oh Bless your hearts. Guys, no offense, but R.I.U. is notorious for recycling plays by year. Dear lord, Stubbs is like a retiring professor with a coursepack. No new material, just recycled every three or four years.”

Jay smacked the guy standing next to him in the arm, “We gotta watch tape! I don’t think I would have noticed that.”

Bitty threw his arms wide, “Exactly, it’s why it works. And this year, all about speed, which was how they have been winning - especially against other speedy schools.”

The oven timer went off in the kitchen. “Oh, I gotta get those. I made pumpkin spice cookies cookies for the party.” And he ran off, white bunny tail twitching as he walked away.

Mason Fowler slapped Jay on the back. “Dude, you are so screwed.”

Jay put his head in his hands, “I know!”

Anthony, team’s wide receiver, stepped in closer to their huddle, “Is it just me, or did he smell like a cinnamon roll?”

“Yes!” Jay yelled. Quieter, “and I think he smells like that all the time!”

Mason took a sip of his tub juice, “I think I have a crush on him now. Did this tub juice just make me gay?”

Jay shook his head, “I haven’t even had any and I still want to marry him and adopt a dog or two.”

Anthony nodded and just muttered, “Dude, hockey butt.”

All three toasted to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am borrowing these football players from a longer fic that I'm working on for NaNoWriMo. They are adorable but a bit clueless.


	5. SMH vs Alumni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Bitty are competitive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place spring, 2016.

**SMH Group Chat**

**Nursey** : WHOA!!! Ha HA!

**Dex** : What did we just see?

**Chowder** : What happened?  What did I miss?

**Dex** : I will never be able to un-see that

**Nursey** : Please tell me someone got that on video?  Please?  Someone?  Anyone?

**Chowder** :  You guys!  What did I miss?

**Shitty** : Attention frogs: henceforth, SMH vs Alumni touch football games are forever banned for…a whole list of reasons.  Safety, decency…I could go on.

**Chowder** : ???

**Bitty** : I think you all are overreacting.  

**Holster** : Eric…

**Ransom** : Jack…

**Nursey** : Bow Chicka Wow Wow

**Shitty** : My little California Sunflower, you just missed a once in a lifetime moment.  Johnson was in town and so Jack and I decided to stop by to visit. Who suggested we play touch football?

**Holster** : Johnson

**Ransom** : Johnson

**Lardo** : Johnson

**Johnson** : The narrative demanded it. You loved it.

**Holster** : I have never played such a cut throat game, and I’m a defenseman. In hockey.  

**Bitty** : It wasn’t that bad.

**Lardo** : Oh, yes it was. 

**Chowder** : Come on! I’ve never even played touch football with you all.  

**Shitty** : And you never will.  

**Nursey** : Bitty don’t play!

**Bitty** : I don’t know what you are talking about.]

**Shitty** : Bitty, my brah, I knew Jack was competitive, but you?  I had no idea.

**Lardo** : Jack knew

**Chowder** : Caitlin is mad that I keep looking at my phone.  WHAT HAPPENED!

**Holster** : Eric - did we even watch Friday Night Lights together?

**Ransom** : Yeah, that doesn’t explain why Bitty lined us up before the game to talk strategy.

**Dex** : First of all, Bitty.  I respect a man with a plan.  But this was just a touch football game.  No one expected an actual playbook.

**Bitty** : Y’all don’t expect pie either, but here we are.

**Jack** : Can I see the playbook?  

**Bitty** : No!

**Ransom** : The chirps that came out of Jack’s mouth.

**Holster** : Makes a boy blush…

**Jack** : Well I wasn’t the one who retaliated with a full body tackle! 

**Bitty** : Well I wasn’t the one with the sexy end zone dances! 

**Jack** : You think my belly dances are sexy?

**Shitty** : WHOAha HAHA!

**Nursey** : I see you Mr. Zimmermann!  Mais Oui! Hu hu huh huh!

**Bitty** : NO PIE FOR YOU!

**Dex** : You guys wrestled in the end zone for like five minutes.  

**Bitty** : Especially no pie for you, Dex.

**Dex** : Its okay, I can make a passable version of your apple pie.

**Nursey** : DEX!  MY MAN!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the twitter exchange between Jack and Holster on why board games are banned from the Haus. They inspired this group chat text story.


	6. Football Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lardo and Bitty watch the Football Team run drills.

8/18/2014 18:11:45 Sitting with Lardo in the stands of the Samwell football stadium, watching the team do stair sprints.  
8/18/2014 18:16:10 Lardo: 2 types of bros, Bits. never-shirtless bros & always-shirtless bros  
Me: *basically*. I’m totally the former  
Lardo: Bitties & Shitties

It’s strange, the things that one finds soothing and familiar.

When Lardo had suggested going to the football stadium to watch the team practice, Bitty had no idea that he would be lulled by the familiar drills and exercises. The team had started practicing earlier in the summer, with the season set to start in a couple of weeks. They were suited up in pads and headgear in the New England heat running up and down stadium stairs.

“I wonder if we are going to pull ourselves out of football obscurity this year.” Lardo questioned around a giant 64oz slurpee. The fastest of the football team had started the ascent up the stairs closest to them.

“We have the talent this year. Look, down far corner of the field, the ones doing throwing drills? That’s Cody Hubbard. He was a three star recruit, but should have been rated higher. Surprised he picked Samwell, but we are lucky to have him. He’s my top pick for a duel threat quarterback.”

The team thundered past and Bitty tapped Lardo on the shoulder as they went by, “And number 16 right there? He’s amazing. There will never be another Bo Jackson, but he comes close. He could have gone in either baseball or football, but he chose football and our team needed that speed.”

Lardo looked over at Bitty.  
 “You know a lot about football, Bits.”

“Dad’s a coach. It’s in my blood.”

The team thundered up another flight of stairs and Bitty laughed to himself.

“Funny story, my dad used to ask me to run up and down the stadium steps to see how many flights I could do and that was what he would give to the football team as their drill.”

Lardo laughed. “And how many could you do?” 

The smile that Bitty gave was a bit bashful colored with just a bit of maliciousness. “Enough to make Joseph Boynton throw up everyday after practice.”

“Poor Joseph.”

Bitty shook his head, “Trust me, he deserved it.”

Lardo got a thoughtful look on her face, “How many could you do now?”

Bitty took a second, “It’s been a while, but I’m still sure I could lap these guys and they are halfway done.”

Lardo raised one eyebrow, “Do it. I double dog dare you. Do it for everyone under 5 foot 6.” 

Bitty stood up, stretched and cracked his back and took off, taking the steps two at a time. First up to the top and back down. 

True to his word, he caught up to the football team in about 10 minutes and passed them a moment later.

It took a half hour for him to make his way around the entire stadium, and back to his seat where Lardo passed him the rest of her Slurpee and did a slow clap.

“That was absolutely amazing.”

Bits took a huge deep breathe and looked over, “They still haven’t finished?”

Lardo smirked, “Once you lapped them about a half of the team stopped to watch you.”

The burn on Bitty’s cheeks was intense and rose to his ears. “Oh gosh.”  
 “I think the coaches down there are going to ask you to try out for the team.”

Bitty stood up, “Oh look at the time, we should get back to the Haus.”

***

Cody Hubbard watched as the blond guy quickly left with his friend in tow. “Who the hell was that?”

Jay Dean came up beside him. “That was Eric Bittle, Hockey forward and menace.”

“Oh my god.”

Jay slapped him on the back, “Welcome to the Bitty Fanclub.”


	7. New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty stays home for New Year's Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on these texts from Bitty’s Sophomore Year:
> 
> 12/27/2014 20:07:33 Ran into some football players I graduated with/my dad coached. Awkward pleasantries bc we have *NO IDEA HOW TO INTERACT WITH EACH OTHER*  
> 12/27/2014 20:10:22 The entire time I’m trying to work in: “oh, I play *hockey* now. With guys twice my size. Very dangerous. Goodness, I’m such a bro.”  
> 12/27/2014 23:46:25 ….should I go to a NYE party with a bunch of football players? :/ (I’m consulting my teammates.)  
> 12/28/2014 4:52:42 Re: NYE with Georgia football players. Rans & Holster social media stalked most of them & concluded: “looks like a bunch of wrenches, bro.”  
> 12/28/2014 4:53:29 @omgcheckplease Rans: like, a full toolkit.  
> Holster: They’re running a Home Depot over there.

SMH Group Chat:

HOLSTER: Bitty!  
RANSOM: HAPPY NEW YEAR! BRO!  
BITTY: Hey guys. Surprised you aren’t out on the town, partying it up.  
HOLSTER: I gave all I had to give at Epikegster. A bro can’t be ON all the time.  
RANSOM: Translation, we keep our lame yet sexy and supple hockey asses at home for NYE.  
HOLSTER: Look, last year I had to watch some teenage dirtbag try to wheel my baby sister. It was awkward for all of us.   
BITTY: But it’s New Year’s Eve. Isn’t this supposed to be the night where we all go out and have the time of our lives?  
HOLSTER: Only on TV and movies. Or people go out with big expectations, and it is ALWAYS  
disappointing.  
RANSOM: Jamie Kennedy NYE level disaster.  
BITTY: You are absolutely right. I just have a case of FOMO.  
RANSOM: Understandable. What’s the party scene in Madison, anyway? Anything other that that toolbox party?  
BITTY: No :-(.   
HOLSTER: Dude, had you gone to hang out with those wrenches, you know you wouldn’t have had fun. What would you have talked about?”  
BITTY: Football. It’s Madison. It’s always football.   
BITTY: I would have spent the entire party feeling uncomfortable while laying out 100 reasons why the Seahawks are going to have a hard time holding onto to the Superbowl title. It’s probably going to be the Patriots going and winning, unless we get a really interesting wild card- it would blow my mind if like Detroit came in and threw a wrench in it.   
RANSOM:…  
BITTY: Oh, and then there’s the Joseph Boynton always asking “Hey Dicky, did you happen to catch my sick pass during the Dogs game against the Ragin’ Cajuns?” and I’m always like, 1) I play hockey now, I don’t follow football, but let’s say I did, you played all of 30 seconds at the end when the Dogs had a untouchable lead. Glad you got some game time though.”  
HOLSTER: …  
BITTY: I would have spent that entire party hanging onto Jesse Boynton. He was always nice, and he really likes to talk about cookies.   
RANSOM: Yeah, glad you stayed home.   
HOLSTER: And spent NYE with us. We’re going to watch all of my favorite NYE TV show episodes, starting with How I MET YOUR MOTHER - I just emailed the playlist. We’ll hit play at 12:05am.   
BITTY: Sounds amazing. Let me go grab something to drink and a few snacks and I’ll be right back.

 

PRIVATE MESSAGE   
HOLSTER: So, Patriots?  
RANSOM: Bro, I just updated all of our betting pools through the playoffs.  
HOLSTER: COOL.

 

Meanwhile  
Jesse Boynton sat in his parent’s basement while an assortment of Madison High football players and alumni rang in the new year.

His oldest brother, Jason sat down next to him. “Bittle never showed?”

Jesse shrugged. “Naw, I figured he wouldn’t, especially after Joey basically was the world’s biggest douche to him when we ran into him at the store.”

Joseph, hearing his name, “Bittle? Fuck that guy! Fuck him and his crazy lung capacity and ability run up stairs and shit.”

Jesse sighed, “That is the dream.”

Jason laughed and passed him a coke. “Oh, kiddo. Crushes suck so bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a special guest appearance from the GA chapter of the Bitty Fanclub. 
> 
> Joseph Boynton is briefly mentioned in Chapter 6 - He still can't think about stadium stair sprints without getting nauseous.


	8. Jack and the Sports Analyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this is a mess, but I wanted to get it out before the New Year. 
> 
> Based on these tweets:
> 
> 9/30/2014 17:03:09 There was a whole 5-minute segment about which team Jack’s going to pick on ESPN.  
> 9/30/2014 17:03:26 It’s gotta be weird when a bunch of people you’ve never met are shouting at each other about your future on national television.  
> 9/30/2014 17:04:37 I think one guy started comparing him to Johnny Manziel and if you know ANYTHING about football–that makes no sense for 100 reasons.  
> 9/30/2014 17:07:40 “If Samwell doesn’t win the NCAA championship, or at least make it to the Frozen Four, his stock as a free agent will plummet.” :/
> 
> Also: Episode #18 http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/91527844307 *

Jack knew better. 

It was one of the first rules that he set up for himself after his overdose. Nothing good came from him looking himself up online or listening to sports analysis on television. Any tips for improving his game best came from teammates and coaches, not television talking heads. 

But it was bugging him. The comparison. He couldn’t shake it. He sat in his room, computer buried under his desk while he tried to breathe and remember how to challenge the negative thoughts that always tended to pull him into the rabbit hole of self doubt. 

Bittle’s voice interrupted his breathing exercises.

Jack thrived on routine and he was slightly comforted to note that Eric spoke this his father every Tuesday night at 7pm. He was content to listen to the muffled sounds of Eric’s conversation until he heard his name. Then he couldn’t help but strain to hear.  
 “Oh, and get this, he compared Jack to Johnny Manz…Right! It’s ridiculous! Sir, I was just about ready to throw a shoe at the T.V. Come on! He could have at least did a little homework!”

And just like that, a bit of the weight lifted from Jack’s mind. He waited for Bittle to finish his conversation before padding over to his room and knocking on the doorframe. 

“Jack! What can I do for you?”   
He felt silly asking for this validation.

“I keep thinking about what that guy said on T.V….”

Bitty’s face couldn’t hide a thought even when he tried and Jack watch as outrage and empathy battle it out on his brow. 

“Jack, that analyst should be fired. I just talked to my dad about him, I think only 10% of his predictions this past year have panned out. Also, Johnny Manz…look, I don’t even know where to start. Sit down.”  
 And Bitty waved Jack down over to his bed before pulling up his laptop and sitting next to him. “Okay, off the top of my head, I can list about 10 student athletes that should have gone pro but took a break to go to school. Then, I can list another 10 athletes that have or had a 4.0 and a professional contract. Oh, and let’s not even go into how many successful football players have had to go into rehab. And why do we stigmatize rehab so badly? It’s a place to go to get help. Jeez…”

30 minutes later, Jack’s head was swimming with details of successful careers and athletes as well as ESPN asshole’s abysmal record. 

“So, to recap, you are not only a world class and talented athlete, you are a brilliant student, and you happen to look like a Disney Prince. Of course those jerks are going to focus on you.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the bedspread. “I’ll get a big head, eh.”

“Those compliments aren't going to your head.” And Jack caught Bittle quickly glancing down at his ass, before seemingly catching himself. 

Jack felt his cheeks burn as a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face. “Are you chirping me, Bittle?”

Eric flushed before an answering grin spread across his face. “If your ass gets any bigger, it might slow you down.”

Jack threw his arm out to snatch Bittle for a headlock, but the little shit must have registered and responded to the motion before he himself even knew what he intended. Bitty arched his back and threw his legs up and over, somersaulting himself off the bed and landing on his bare feet near his desk. 

Jack jumped up and bent his knees a little, distributing his weight. Looking around the room, he realized that he had a direct, but slightly longer path to the door, while Bittle was only slightly blocked by his desk chair. Checking practice had prepared him for this. It was different though. Instead of thick hockey pads and uniform, Bitty was dressed in a thin t-shirt and a pair of running shorts. Jack could see his cords of muscle from thigh to ankle, tightly wound in both legs, ready to spring in an uncanny burst of speed. 

He knew that he couldn’t just intercept Bittle. If Bittle so much as saw an opening as thin as a sheet of paper, he could squeeze through. His only hope would be to anticipate his path and block as much of it as possible, giving him the no time to adjust course. 

Both stood frozen, waiting for any signal to move. Bits glanced at the door, glanced back at Jack before they both heard the front screen door slam closed, and Bittle was off. Jack threw his weight towards the door, going low, and there was no still no way for him to be fast enough. Bitty still managed to leap completely over his chair and pushed off the side of the desk to jump through the upper left corner of the door, clearing Jack’s shoulder before hitting the ground in a full on sprint towards the Haus stairs. 

Jack tumbled after, reaching out with long limbs to grab at Bitty’s shirt, but he caught only air and the peal of laughter as they ran down the stairs. 

Chance cemented Bitty’s escape, as Shitty turned to climb up to his room. Bitty twisted his body and slid down the ancient creaking banister, missing Shitty completely. Jack could only barely pull himself up short enough not to collide into best friend and knock him back down the steps. 

Over Shitty’s shoulder, Bitty turned on his heel before bringing two fingers to his brow and freaking saluting Jack with a huge smile and a wink before strutting his little ass into the kitchen. 

“Whoa, bro! You look keyed up.”

Jack could only take a deep heaving breathe.

“So, man, I just wanted to check in. See how you are doing. Making sure you aren’t internalizing anything that asshole analyst said.” Shitty said, still blocking Jack’s path to Bitty.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. He’s an asshole and his analysis doesn’t reflect anything about me. He only has vague gossip to go on.”

Shitty face lit up. “You fuckin’ beaut. Absolutely.” His mustache tipped up in a smirk, “So, gotta a hot date tonight? You look like you have some energy to burn.”

“No date. I have to finish a history paper this weekend before the roadie. Maybe I’ll treat myself to whatever Bittle is baking.”

“Self care with baked goods. I approve.” And Shitty stepped aside and slapped Jack on the back. 

The sounds of cabinets opening and closing and soft chuckles emanated from the kitchen. Jack’s paper could wait another hour, he thought, as he wandered into the kitchen to see what was cooking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay - a few things that I’ve noticed going through the tweets  
> Bitty most likely has scheduled talks with his dad on Tuesday evening which I think is adorable.  
> A few weeks before Coach was asking about BItty’s lack of a girlfriend  
> A few weeks after this exchange, he started asking about Jack - coincidence? maybe? but in my fanfic world, I am taking it and running with it. My head cannon - Coach heard Bitty rant about Jack and went, “Jack, OHHHHHH - I see it now.” Soon after, Coach wants to meet Jack. You can try to pry this head cannon out of my hot brown hands. 
> 
> *Jack’s face just breaks my heart in that episode. BREAKS IT!


	9. Checks vs Tackles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tries to shake up checking practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I write most of these on my phone. One day, I plan to go through and better edit all of my chapters, but today is not that day! 
> 
> Either way, have some fluff.
> 
> This takes place Bitty's 2nd year.

Sophomore year, Jack failed a one question quiz in his science seminar, “Physics in sports”.

The question: calculate the smallest mass possible for a football defensemen to stop the momentum of a running back with the ball. 

In retrospect, it had been a trick question.

Jack’s equations had been fundamentally right. He could calculate Force: F=ma, acceleration a = (vf - vo)/(tf - to), and he had the velocity and mass of both players in the game. 

But the trick, the one that the professor was so proud to announce as he returned most of the graded quizzes with big zeroes on the top of the page, was that he did not consider friction, point of impact, center of mass, direction of hit, impulse, and a few other variables that he was cursing right now as he laid flat on his back, staring up into the bright blue New England sky, struggling to take a deep breath. 

Bittle’s head blocked out the sun. As Jack came back to himself, he began to decipher the stream of rambling coming from Bittle’s mouth. And Christ, if Bittle rambled when he was nervous, then this was just something else entirely. 

“Oh my God, Jack, I am so so very sorry. Good lord, please be okay. I really need you to be okay. If I somehow messed up your chance with the NHL because of a stupid checking practice gone wrong, I will never ever forgive myself. But don’t you worry, Jack. I will take care of you. If I ruined your life, I can at least makes sure you have your very favorite pie everyday of your life. In fact, you will never have to cook ever again. I swear on my great grandmama’s pie pan, I will just do it. Everyday. Please be okay.”

Jack blinked his eyes as he finally got in one good deep breath. 

“Jack! Jack, can you hear me! I’m going to get some help okay! I just gotta find my phone, honey. Its somewhere, but I’m going to come back with some help and if I have to carry you to the hospital on my back, I will…”

Jack reached up and cupped Bittle’s face with hand and he fell silent at the contact, chocolate brown eyes huge and beginning to brim with tears.

“I just got the wind knocked out of me. I’m okay.”

“Jack! You just went down like a sack of flour and you didn't get back up right away and I thought that I had somehow made you hit your head and I mean it, I will take care of you and make you pie, and…”

“Bits, Bud…take a deep breath with me.”

And Bitty sucked in a huge breath through his nose after Jack and pursed his lips and blew out. Jack took a breath and then Eric, and then out. After about a minute, they both were calmer and Jack’s hand was still on Eric’s face. 

He took a moment to brush his thumb across the bridge of Bitty’s nose, across the light smattering of freckles. He was slightly surprised at how absolutely smooth the skin was, as if he was somehow expecting the freckles to be slightly raised to his touch.

He pulled his hand away as he sat up, Eric still straddling his legs. “You are wasted as a hockey forward. That was one hell of a hit.” and Eric just stared at Jack, running his eyes from top to toe, checking for injuries. 

“Is this what you expect every time you get a check?”

Eric’s eyes were still huge and his face was pinched as he thought about it. 

“I mean, I thought it was a pretty clean tackle. Head up, chin up, grab cloth, follow through. I wasn’t trying to purposely hurt you.”

“But, this is what you expect.” And Jack wasn’t sure if he would want to get checked either. 

When he suggested forgoing 5am checking practice for a quick run and football drill, he had merely thought it would be a way to both shake up the practice, get out of the heavy hockey gear, and connect Bitty to something that he was very knowledgable about. 

“You’re like Atom Ant or Mighty Mouse.”

Finally, Bitty smiled, “I hit you too high. I was supposed to go for your hips and down, but my shoulder went straight into your diaphragm.”

“I would have you give Ransom and Holster pointers, but we don’t need that type of lawsuit on our hands.” Jack said, leaning back onto his elbows.

“With great power, comes great responsibility.” Eric chuckled before leaning back off of Jack completely.

“Where is that from?”

“Oh, my God, Jack…Seriously?” 

“Superman?”

Eric rolled his eyes, “Are you sure I didn’t knock all of your pop culture knowledge out of your head?”

“I’ve had harder checks.” Not many, Jack thought. Since he couldn’t decide if Bitty would take that as a complement or as an excuse to self flagellate himself, he just kept the thought to himself. 

Bitty jumped up, brushed the grass from his legs and off of his running shorts, before reaching out a hand to Jack. “It’s good to know that I can knock even you off of your feet.”

Jack felt his stomach flutter as he took his Frog’s hand. Eric’s coloring was really highlighted best in the sun and he suddenly wished he had his camera on him. 

“You are going to have to carry me back to the Haus now, Bittle.”

“Jack, you are like 80 pounds heavier than me.”

Jack wrapped his arms around Bittle shoulder’s from behind. “You are much stronger than you look. You can handle it.”

Bitty laughed and stood up, scooping Jack’s knees up and hitching his entire weight onto his back.

“I think I can carry your ginormous hockey butt about 10 feet before I drop you in front of the LAX house.”

“It’s all your fault. Too much pie.” Jack said, straight faced into Bitty’s hair.

“Jack Zimmermann! There is no such thing as too much pie.”

Bitty made it farther that 10 feet and Jack held on, laughing to himself. All in all, it wasn’t a bad checking practice. And later that night, when he was falling asleep in his bed, he realized for the first time, the possibly of not playing professional hockey in the future didn’t fill him with anxiety of failure, as he imagined a lifetime of sunshine and pie.


	10. Rugby vs Football

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little deet exchange over pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to note: I am just now learning about rugby and hockey. My knowledge of football is completely accidental at this point, but improving every week.
> 
> Based on these tweets:  
> 12/7/2014 4:33:21 There’s a lot of things I want to say right now, but it’s raining, and I told my date I was going to the restroom 10 minutes ago.  
> 12/7/2014 4:40:47 And though opinions vary among the #SamwellMensHockey team, let the record show: Jack Zimmermann is not a terrible dancer.  
> 12/7/2014 7:36:21 Sitting under the south quad statue with the boys. Ughhhh the Haus is so far away.  
> 12/7/2014 7:37:09 Shitty definitely doesn’t have a flask in his suit jacket.  
> 12/7/2014 7:39:31 @omgcheckplease And if he did, it definitely wouldn’t be making rounds. Ooops, it’s definitely not coming to me.  
> 12/7/2014 7:45:19 Two Samwell WS’s down, Two more to go.  
> 12/8/2014 18:30:15 Coffee at Annie’s!  
> 12/8/2014 18:33:26 Tip: never suggest that someone with an English accent buy an English muffin; if they laugh it’s probably because they’re a v. nice person.

“So,” Holster began with a grin, as he tossed his backpack under the kitchen table. “How was your coffee date with Ethan?” 

Bitty could feel his ears going red, but he didn’t pause at all, continuing to roll out his finicky pasty dough for his Food and Culture class. Holster waited patiently, pulling down a slightly chipped saucer plate and serving himself a slice of pecan pie that was sitting out on the kitchen counter. Bitty should not have been surprised. The smell of fresh baked goods and the promise of deets was a siren song that Holster could not and would not ignore.

Bitty shrugged, still trying to roll the dough thin enough, “It was fine. Nothing really to talk about.”

Holster took a big bite of his pie and hummed appreciatively at the plate, “This was technically date number 2, correct?”, He arched his eyebrow and smirked, “Is there going to be a date number 3?”

Bitty laughed, “Goodness no. I’m not sure if we are right for each other, bless his heart.”

Holster paused eating, his fork halfway to his mouth before he froze. He silently put down his utensil and plate before turning and walking out of the kitchen. 

Bitty stared after him, and watched as he stepped into the foyer and yelled at the top of his lungs, “HAUS MEETING, NOW!” He then pulled out his phone, fingers flying across the screen before he simply dropped it into his back pocket. 

“Haus meeting, Bits.”

“I heard. Why a Haus meeting?” 

“Yeah, why the sudden meeting?” Ransom asked, walking into the kitchen with his laptop tucked under his arm. 

“You are going to have to adjust your spreadsheet. Bitty just dropped a “bless your heart” on Ethan.” 

Ransom’s eyes widened, “A bless your heart? Bro, that’s brutal.”

Jack and Shitty walked into the house from outside, Shitty holding up his phone, “Emergency Haus business? Did the basement flood again? Cause that’s going to be a pain to take care of before break.”

Expecting the small crowd, Holster had pulled down a set of plates and mugs and started dishing up a slice of pie on each of them. Ransom started a pot of coffee.

Bitty thought about just abandoning his pasties and making a run for it, but he had never abandoned a pie, and he wasn’t going to start now, especially since Betsy was having a good baking day.

Jack quietly padded over next to Bitty and asked, “Is everything alright?” And he just shrugged helplessly before passing over a butcher knife and an onion, turnip, and potato. 

“I can’t be trusted with a knife around Holster right now, I need you to help chop veggies.” 

Jack washed his hands as Holster, Ransom and Shitty settled into seats at the table.

“Alright, just to catch everyone up, Bits was just telling us about his coffee date with Ethan, the Rugby player and winter screw date.” Holster said around a bite of pie. “Please, Eric, continue.”

“I don’t even know why I put up with any of you, let alone make so much damn pie for you all of the time.”

“You love us, we love you. The pie is an added bonus.” Shitty said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Is this a new thing? Because I whole heartedly approve of deet exchanges over coffee and pie.”

“Look, long story short, I didn’t really get a chance to talk to Ethan too much at the dance and then today at coffee, I just got the feeling that we are not meant to be.”

“Bless his heart.” Ransom said and everyone, including Jack paused to look over at Bitty’s back, as his blush intensified and ran down his neck. 

“Yes, bless his heart.” Bitty said, back still to the room. There, the dough was thin enough. “There were just a few things that didn’t sit right with me. So, no more dates.”

Bitty turned around to three very curious faces. He didn’t even try to look at Jack. Holster rolled his hand urging Bitty to continue.

“Okay, first off, he didn’t know I played hockey. He thought that I was the team manager. He introduced me to three of his teammates as the manager even after I told him that I am a player on the team.”

“Strike One!” Holster bellowed.

“Then he started talking about Rugby as if I had never ever heard of the sport before! He was all like, ‘Oh, Eric, rugby is a proper sport. Not like this American Football nonsense you all are so obsessed with over here.’” Bitty said, in a pitch perfect imitation of posh British accent. “And that was when I went to go find Shitty and the flask last night.”

“Bro, one, that accent is amazing. Two, why did you meet him for coffee if you weren't feeling it?” Ransom asked, while pulling up the Bits Dating Spreadsheet. “Be as detailed as possible, I need as many variables for the next time I set you up.”

Bitty shrugged and glanced quickly over at Jack, who was steadily but slowly chopping the potato in to a perfect small dice like Bitty had showed him last week. “I figured that since he was interested in me, I should at least give him a second chance, without the influence of alcohol and a hundred people milling around.”

Jack finished the potato and moved onto the turnip. 

“Anyway, today at coffee, I recommended the english muffin, he laughed about them really being American muffins.”

“Cute as fuck.” Shitty said, mouth full of pie.

“Then, he went back into the whole rugby versus football debate we started last night.” And Bitty just threw up his hands in frustration. “Like, look. We could have talked about anything, but he kept harping on in.” Back in his imitation, “Americans just took the game and said, let’s turn this into bumper cars. The games are endless, the players are giant oafs wrapped in bubble wrap and you call that tackling. And the passing. Just run the ball like you are meant to.”

Holster looked over at Ransom who was typing into Google’s search bar, “I don’t even know. I’m looking up the rules to rugby now.”

“I really tried, y’all. I did. I tried to steer the conversation onto how I thought that rugby tackles are safer and really effective compared to what’s been traditionally used in football. Like, the Seahawks have been using rugby tackles for a few years now. They even developed a training program for high school students because it doesn’t require the padding. My dad has been using it with his team.”

Jack nodded along with the story. 

“I even conceded that Rugby is faster paced, way more running, but I couldn’t let him think that forward passing is something to be ashamed of. We figured that mess out early on in the game. Football is it’s own thing. It’s as American as apple pie and you all know how I feel about apple pie.”

“You felt like he was insulting you and your dad.” Jack said quietly. 

Bitty’s eyes went wide, “YES! Like, I know that I really don't have a hat in that fight, but it just felt disrespectful. Plus, football is one of the most brutal sports out there. The date wrapped up with me drawing out a venn diagram of the positives of rugby and football just so we could end on a positive note.”

The kitchen table was quiet. “So, no more rugby players.” Holster volunteered. 

“The accent wasn’t worth it.” Bitty replied, going back to check the temperature on the oven.

Ransom nodded. “So how do you feel about the soccer team? OH! What about the football team? I know a few guys who would totally be into you.”

“I’m good, guys.” Bitty said to his dough, as he began to cut circles for the pasties. 

The conversation died out at the same time as the guys ran out of pie. Only Jack remained in the kitchen helping Bitty finish up the pasties and cleaning up. 

“To be fair, I hate how your have to pass backwards or sideways in order to then try to progress with the ball.” Jack said to the cabinets as he placed the newly washed plates back up. 

“Exactly!” 

“And to be completely honest, we all know that hockey is the best sport. The game is 60 minutes of continuous movement, no breaks until end of period. And there is nothing more terrifying than a puck flying at your head as you are being chased by giants with knives strapped to their feet.”

Bitty threw his head back and laughed. “Very true.”

Jack, looking quietly pleased with himself. “You deserve a guy that doesn’t try to make you smaller to make himself bigger, Bittle.” With that, he left the kitchen and Bitty with a pat on the back.

Bitty’s heart felt full and heavy at the same time. “Yeah, I gotta get a man like that.”***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***I love that Zimbits is canon. That means my story ends on a sweet note instead of with slightly angsty pining.


	11. Ballet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not just football...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a discussion on Tumblr on how Bitty's physique probably resembles that of dancer, Rhys Kosakowski*
> 
> Now long long ago, I took ballet for almost a decade. I was very bad at it, but that never stopped me from spinning or leaping into walls or other people.
> 
> So, since I had some sincere feelings about Bitty having a ballet background, this happened.
> 
> Think of this as a little aside in the Bitty Secretly Knows Everything About Football Series, featuring the Bitty Fanclub.

Jack knew that Bitty was nervous, but he had no idea why. The entire walk over to the dance studio, Bitty alternated between absolute silence and rambling stream of consciousness. Even earlier this morning, Jack had found him talking to himself in his room debating running shorts or unitard with t-shirt. 

The cross training guest Instructor zeroed in on Bitty as soon as he walked into the open dance studio.

“You have ballet training? Of course you do. I can see it in how you walk. Take a spot up front.”

As the rest of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team filed into the room, Bitty looked back, wide eyed, like some great secret had been exposed. 

But he dutifully placed his water bottle down near the speaker, and went to stand in the middle of the room at the freestanding barre as everyone else crammed in and tried to find a spot farthest from the wall of mirrors in the front.

Jack, out of a sense of duty took the last spot at the freestanding barre with Bitty.

The instructor walked to the middle of the room. Her back straight in a light pink leotard and her micro braids pulled back into a tight bun at the top of her head. “My name is Sabrina Ross, I am a dancer and instructor at the Boston Ballet. Samwell Athletics has asked me to come and host a few sessions to diversify your workouts. Who has had any experience with ballet.”

Bitty tentatively put up his hand. 

“I know you have experience. Tell me about it.” Sabrina said, walking around the center barre.

“Umm. I really didn’t do too much. I took a few classes starting when I was about seven years old. Then I had to scale down for figure skating, but I kept up with it here and there until I graduated high school.”

Sabrina raised a dark eyebrow, her brown eyes missing nothing. “How many days a week did you practice…I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, Eric, but everyone here calls me Bitty. And, only two days a week.”

“Here and there.” 

“Yes.” Bitty had the nerve to blush.

“Uh huh. Well, we are going to just jump in. Let’s start with a quick overview - do you want to be fast, strong, flexible, and adaptable, then ballet is the place to start. Ballet demands strength without the bulk.” Sabrina looks directly at Jack and then looks down at his butt. 

“Since I only have a few hours with you over the week, I’m going to just get started. Look to me or Eric for positions and proper alignment. I will come around and correct you as needed.” And with that, she pushed a button on a remote control and the gentle sounds of classical music began to play. “Eric, you are wearing a leotard or tights, right? Take off the sweats. I need the room to be able to see your body.”

As he comes back to the barre, in a tank top unitard, Jack can see his flush from his neck down his back. Jack can never quite get over how beautifully made Bitty is. From the top of his head, all the way down to his feet, he’s ascetically pleasing in a way that only symmetry can achieve. 

“Now let’s begin with plies. Left hand on the bar, first position.”

Sabrina leads the class through a series of plies, tendus, and dégagés, stopping frequently, to adjust hips and legs.

“Look, ballet is about isolation of muscle. You need to pull up, like a string is attached through your spine and being pulled up out of the top of your head. Also, tighten your core, squeeze those butt cheeks, and keep your hips square and down. Look here.” Sabrina says, as she once again goes to Bitty. “Side Grande Battement and hold for me.” 

Bitty gracefully flicks his leg into the air. “You see, butt tight, leg straight and strong, foot pointed, hip down, look at this perfect definition in his leg. Look how weightless his leg is. You all are shaking trying to hold this position, but look how perfectly aloft he’s holding his leg.

Jack was trying to to stare. He was failing miserably, but it was okay, because the entire room was staring. But it was so damn captivating to watch Eric move. 

Back when he first met Eric, he was constantly annoyed by the freshman because he would shrink himself on the ice, practically disappear into his pads. But to see that moment when during the warm-up when he finally felt comfortable, he grew to take up so much space. He was focused and confident. His body hitting each position perfectly. It was inspiring and a little bit sexy. 

By the time class ended, Jack wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to walk back to the Haus. HIs legs felt like jelly from the seemingly thousand repetitions with nothing more than his body weight. 

Bitty, damn him, was in the middle of the room, spinning and leaping ten feet into the air as if it were nothing.

“If you ever want to give up hockey, I have a space for you in my dance company.”

“Oh goodness no, but thank you, I traded ballet shoes for ice skates long ago.”

Sabrina nodded, “Either way, if you are available, you are more than welcome to join us for our production of the Nutcracker. We are always scrambling for more men to perform.”

“I’ll think about that. Thank you Sabrina, see you next week.”

Jack wait for Bitty to finish grabbing his stuff. 

“You were pretty amazing in there.”

“Oh, that. Well, dad put me in ballet early. Said that he wanted to give me an advantage over the other football players. I don’t think he expected that I would take to it like I did.”

“That’s what led to figure skating?” Jack asked, tilting his head towards Annie’s instead of walking back home.

“Yea, Katiya was an instructor for both, but she thought that I would translate well on ice.”

Jack had a running list in his head. From hockey, football, figure skating, and now ballet added to the mix, he wasn’t sure if there wasn’t anything Bittle couldn’t do if he put his mind to it. 

Once upon a time, Jack can admit that he would have been very intimidated in the face of such talent, he still sometimes is. But he can’t help but feel honored to be able to skate with Bitty. 

“Do you think that you will call her back to be in the show?”

Eric shook his head, “Maybe, if they really need me and we don’t have a game. Its always fun to dress up in costume to mill about during the party scene in the beginning.” 

“If you did perform, I would go.” Jack said and hurriedly added, “I mean, I’m sure the team would go. Especially the Haus.”

Bitty grinned. He had only put back on his sweat pants, and so his shoulders and arms were still on display in the unitard. A dusting of freckles on his shoulders kept stealing Jacks attention. 

“Strength without the bulk.”

Bitty rolled his eyes, “Are you chirping me?”

“No, but I think Sabrina was chirping me.”

“Oh yeah, she was.” 

*************   
Bonus: Bitty’s Fanclub

The Samwell Football Team was scheduled for ballet Cross Training at 6am on a Tuesday. Who in the world had that great idea?

Jay Dean rubbed his eyes as he walked through the door to the dance studio at the ungodly hour of 6am and stopped dead in his tracks and turned right back around and out the door.

He bumped into Mason Fowler. “Whoa, class is this way, where are you going?”

Jay shook his head, “I wasn’t ready.”

Cody Hubbard paused, “Ready for what?”

All three looked into the room where Eric was currently executing perfect pirouettes while the guest instructor clapped off to the side. “And one, and two, and three, and four…”

He finished with grande jette and landed gracefully on one knee.

“Yes Eric! Perfect. With a few more pieces of choreography, you can easily be our emergency substitute for the Nutcracker.”

Eric, glistened, because of fucking course he didn’t sweat. He would never do something as base and unattractive as sweating, no. He looked like he was misted with the fabled waters of Avalon and sprinkled gently with glitter by angels, but Jay could admit he was a wee bit biased.

“So, you going to talk to him today? He’s right there.” Mason whispered.

“Its 6am. I haven’t had any coffee yet. I’m not sure if I’m awake or dreaming. So, nope. Not talking to him today. I don’t trust myself not to either make dolphin noises or ask him to marry me. Or straight up proposition him for a quickie in the locker room. Either way, not talking to him.”

Cody snorted. “Jay, its not that hard. Just watch. Hey Bittle!”

To Jay’s absolute horror, Eric turned around to the guys milling about in the doorway.

“Nice tights.” Cody said, with a nod and grin.

Eric’s face frosted over. He reached down and grabbed a sport duffle bag that was tucked into the corner of the room and walked out, scanning Cody from head to toe.

“What the fuck was that?” Jay hissed.

“Oh fuck, that sounded so different in my head.” 

Jay covered his face with his hands. “Jesus, Cody! You might as well have had a Cobras jacket on. Are you going to sweep the leg too?”

“What the hell was that creeptastic grin?” Mason whispered. 

“Okay, okay…look. I need you to tell coach that I’m dropping out of school immediately. I gotta change my name and move to Australia. Maybe in 20 years, after I’ve dyed my hair, got an eyepatch, and a face tattoo, I’ll be able to ever show my face here again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the tumblr post:   
> http://airplanesandcookies.tumblr.com/post/155983931068/airplanesandcookies-thehausghosts
> 
> Thank you Thehausghosts and Rhysiana.


	12. A Common Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nursey takes one for the team.

It had been an absolutely long, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day and Nursey knew, deep down in his soul, that everything could be made right again with a warm slice of pie and a tall glass of almond milk. He practically ran back to the Haus after lecture, bounded up the steps and was almost through the kitchen door before he was intercepted by Chowder’s right arm.

“C? What’s the hell, man?”

Chowder motioned with his head through the door.

Nursey peeked into the kitchen and it was frigid. Ford was sitting at the kitchen table, back straight and staring at her open laptop as she looked through the team’s shared calendar and task list - which wasn’t out of the norm. Bitty was aggressively whipping up egg whites by hand instead of using the electric mixer that was on the counter. And that was a red flag. 

Dex wandered over from the living room and leaned in over Chowder’s shoulder. “It’s still pretty tense in there, still, huh?”

“What happened?” Nursey asked, rooted in his spot even though he could see his prize, a blueberry pie sitting on the counter right next to the fridge.

“You know how Bitty is really into football but he pretends that he isn’t? Well, he and Ford were working on team management stuff and she mentioned that her uncle is a football coach and her brothers play.” Chowder began to explain. 

“So now they have even more in common?”

“And for a few minutes, I really thought they would suddenly break out a secret handshake that would rival Holster and Ransom’s. But then Ford showed Bitty the socks that she knitted.”

“Socks?” And that didn’t sound right, Nursey thought. How could socks possibly bend the laws of physics and change both temperature and gravity in a room of a rickety frat house?

Chowder continued. “They are in Auburn’s orange and blue.”

Nursey nodded and waited for more information.

“Bitty, even though he has never said as much, is a Georgia Bulldog fan.” Dex mumbled, as he stepped back from the doorway. The guys followed, only taking a few steps back as Bitty held up his whisk to inspect the stiff peaks he had whipped before he loudly banged the mixing bowl onto the counter. The guys flinched at the sound. Ford didn’t bat an eyelash but she was focusing as hard as she could on her typing and not succeeding going by how many times she went back to angrily hit the backspace key.

“This is fine. We’ll just make a bylaw of something. No football talk in the Haus.” Bitty muttered into his bowl from the kitchen.

Ford frowned and looked up over her cat-eye frames, “I told you, I don’t really follow football. We never have to mention it again.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Chowder looked forlorn as he watched from the doorway. “We have to fix this.”

Nursey closed his eyes and sighed before turning to Dex and Chowder. He had already had a shit day. Might as well commit to it completely. “I need to know that you guys will have my back and will sneak me pie when Bitty cuts me off.”

Chowder looked offended, “Of course!”

Dex stared Nursey in the eye before he reared back, reading the play on Nursey’s face. He shook his head, “No…if you are planning what I think you are planning, it’s not worth it.”

Nursey pulled his hat off and tossed it in the corner with his backpack and walked into the kitchen with a quick, “They need a common enemy. This is for the team.”

“What’s up. Ford. Bitty.” Nursey made his way over to the fridge and pulled out his almond milk, just tucking the entire carton under his arm. 

Ford didn’t look up from her computer. “Bitty and I found out that we are both fans of the SEC - just different teams.”

“Oh yeah?” Nursey asked, putting as much nonchalance into the phrase as possible and as he slid over to the pie, opening the drawer to look for a knife to cut into the pie with. “Bitty, you’re a Bulldog fan, right? I saw the poster in your room.”

“Seriously, we can just make a new bylaw.”

“And Ford, you’re a Tigers fan?”

Ford closed her laptop. “Yes.”

“That’s cool.” Nursey decided to just go for broke, and picked up the entire pie. “That’s a pretty big school rivalry, right?”

“One of the biggest.” Bitty ground out. 

“Yeah. It’ll be a shame to watch when Landry beats both of you guys this year.”

“Landry?” Bitty and Ford exclaimed loudly together. 

“Yep.” Nursey said, popping that last P as he backed out of the kitchen as quickly as he could. “Face it, Landry has a better couching staff, faster players. While you guys were rehashing a 100 year old feud, the Lynxes are going to clean up this year, I know it.”

Nursey ran from the kitchen and Ford and Bitty’s angry squawks.

“You’re welcome.” He said as he ran past Dex and Chowder to go hide in his room with his last pie for probably a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! It's been a while :-)
> 
> Thank you for all of the lovely notes people leave on this series. It makes me happy that folks liked it so much.
> 
> A few disclaimers about this chapter:
> 
> 1) I based this on a personal Big 10 football rivalry which only resolved because we both hated another team more.
> 
> 2) I had to Google SEC school rivalries. If I got something wrong, sorry!
> 
> 3) I made up a school, Landry University. Just imagine that it exists in the same way as Samwell and the Providence Falconers.


End file.
